


Exactly What You Deserve

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Holding [11]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Gambling, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, No Angst, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 08:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: By sheer good luck Brad almost ran smack into Kevan. He instantly dropped his gear bag and snatched the iPad out of his team mate’s hands.“What’ve we got here, guys?” Brad grinned, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the list. He had to bite his tongue not to burst out laughing; not only from what he was reading, but also the panicked expressions on everyone’s faces. “Oh my god… Pat! You gotta look at this!”





	Exactly What You Deserve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madam_Mim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Mim/gifts).



> Requested by Madam_Mim, here is the sequel to *$1200 Waste Of Time* (you can read that one by clicking Previous Work).
> 
> There are references here to *all smiles, dude* by fridgefish (https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434875) and to *someone (very much) like you* by blindbatalex (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245989). Both are excellent fics and I highly recommend them, they're both absurdly cute Marcheron fics that should be read by anyone who's a fan of this pairing :)

“They’re talking about it again,” Brad whispered, so quietly he worried Patrice might not be able to hear him.

“Don’t you think we should just come clean?” his boyfriend frowned, voice equally difficult to pick up.

“Maybe. Follow my lead.”

They moved up the hall and around the corner, and by sheer good luck Brad almost ran smack into Kevan. He instantly dropped his gear bag and snatched the iPad out of his team mate’s hands.

“What’ve we got here, guys?” Brad grinned, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the list. He had to bite his tongue not to burst out laughing; not only from what he was reading, but also the panicked expressions on everyone’s faces. “Oh my god… Pat! You gotta look at this!”

His boyfriend came over to stand next to him. “Why, what did they do?” he asked, pretending not to already know.

“Look at this shit!” Brad exclaimed. “‘In the hospital after an injury,’ Torey? Classy! Let’s see, here, what else? ‘At a hotel during the playoffs…’ okay, Noel, that’s a little better, I like that, very romantic! And… oh for fuck’s sake, Chuckie, ‘in the locker room after a regulation loss?’ What’s _wrong_ with you? Bergy, you wanna weigh in?”

“I just think it’s hysterical how almost nobody bet on me,” Patrice shrugged, obviously trying not to laugh by now, too. “They’re not giving either of us enough credit, Marchy.”

“That’s for damn sure!” Brad agreed. He waved the iPad around in the air over his head. “How fucking _dumb_ do you guys think we are, huh? Sneaking around between practices and shit! Okay, before you start glaring at the rookies, we’ve both known for _years!_ None of you are as fucking sneaky as you think you are! And… oh, wow. This fucking takes the cake. You really didn’t think I could pull something off without anyone knowing? And whoever guessed right… got an extra twenty bucks and a pizza! My fucking dignity is worth a _pizza_ apparently!”

By this point, he couldn’t keep it up, and dissolved into a fit of laughter so bad that he had to sit down on the bench or risk falling. He could hear Patrice laughing almost as hard and the iPad was finally snatched away by its owner.

“He knew this whole time?” Charlie squeaked from somewhere nearby, sounding terrified.

“You all are getting exactly what you deserve,” Z called from some distant corner of the locker room.

Brad finally got a grip on himself and looked at Patrice: “Do you wanna tell them, or should I?”

“I think we should both do it,” Patrice grinned back, and they yanked each other in for a passionate kiss in front of the whole team.

Everyone was gawking at them in shock, but it didn’t last long because now Z and Tuukka were desperately trying to stifle their smug giggling from the back. Krej was the first one to ask: “How long?”

“Almost six years,” Patrice answered, putting an arm around Brad’s shoulders and kissing his left temple.

“We managed to keep this secret way better than you all and your stupid bets,” Brad grinned. “Just for that by itself, I think we should get a cut of whatever’s in that pool.”

“It’s over $1200 by now,” Matt supplied, which earned him an elbow to the ribs from Jake.

Brad nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Do any of you actually know how fucking ridiculous you all are? Johnny tried tipping me off when he got traded but I already knew way before that. So, before we give up the juicy details that you’re all fucking _dying_ to hear, how much of a cut do we get?”

“I think we should just give them half, and then divide up after that,” Pasta offered, red-faced. He obviously didn’t feel good about making bets on his line mates. “It seems fair.”

“What? But they make so much more money than we do already!” Jake protested.

“Shut up, Brusky,” Matt argued. “We got caught, get over it.”

“I think Pasta’s right,” Kevan finally agreed, moving to set down his iPad on top of his gear bag. “I mean, it’s _these two_ we’re talking about. The managed to trick us for six years, that couldn’t have been easy for Brad in the first place…”

“Christ, give him _some_ credit,” Patrice interrupted. “I wanted to just tell everyone right away, waiting it out was _his_ idea.”

Kevan sighed. “Okay, guys, you win. Torey will cough up half for you after practice, and once you’ve been paid we’ll finish fighting over who gets what.”

Brad started laughing again. “You know I was kidding, right? You don’t have to pay us, just seeing how you all looked when I caught you was more than enough as it is!”

Their team mates all grumbled a little and everyone finally went to their stalls to gear up for practice. It was still the last practice before the first round of playoffs, after all. To their (very little) credit, Brad counted almost ten minutes before Torey finally brought it up: “So… come on, guys, we gotta know. Will you tell us? Please?”

“Okay,” Patrice nodded. “It was the middle of the night, and Brad was being ridiculous like always-”

“I won’t stand for this biased narration!” Brad shouted, stopping him. “Okay. So it was the middle of the night, and I was being ridiculous like always…”

* * *

_“I’m not being a saint for Halloween, Bradley.”_

_Brad popped open his beer and sank back further into the couch. Patrice had such a nice couch; he wanted to get one like it for himself sometime._

_“But you already are a saint! You could just show up to the party at Quaider’s dressed like how you always dress! Boom, no-cost costume!”_

_“I’m not being a saint for Halloween, Bradley,” Patrice repeated before cracking his own bottle._

_“Well then you should be Superman.”_

_“No.”_

_“For fuck’s sake, man! You’re perfect and amazing and your costume should show how perfect and amazing you are!”_

_Patrice took a long sip, then slowly started to grin. “You know what?”_

_“What?”_

_“The point of Halloween is that you dress like something you would normally never dress as.”_

_“Yeah, and?” Brad wasn’t sure where this was going, but he already liked it because his best friend seemed really pleased with himself over whatever idea was about to be pitched._

_“So, the most logical idea would be for me to go as something that’s the complete opposite of how I normally am, right?”_

_“Yeah…”_

_“So… I’ll go dressed as you!”_

_Brad immediately had hysterics, almost dropping his beer onto the carpet but managing to set it down on the coffee table before doubling over howling. He laughed until his stomach ached. “Yes! That’s fucking perfect! It means you’ll have to shave, though… you know that, that’s not important! You should_ definitely _go as me! And-” He started laughing again. “And you know what, I’ll go as you! I’ll tie coffee cans to my shoes to make myself taller and everything!”_

_Now it was Patrice’s turn to almost die of laughter. It didn’t help that they were both on their fifth beers by now, but sometimes the best ideas formulated when they were drunk. “This is the greatest plan we’ve ever come up with. The team’s gonna have a field day when they see us.”_

_Then they both froze. And they both noticed each other freezing._

_“What is it, Pat?”_

_“Uh… I don’t know if I should tell you.”_

_“Oh come on, Bergy! I told you about the poison oak incident from when I was a kid, you gotta tell me about this!”_

_Patrice snickered a little, obviously remembering that story. Then he got serious again. “Okay. So, the team has a betting pool going… um, they’re placing bets on us, actually.”_

_Brad snorted. “Oh, that? Yeah, I already knew. Most of them are betting on me doing something crazy as like a love confession or whatever.”_

_“Well… are you?”_

_“Am I what?” He made the mistake of drinking more of his beer, and what Patrice said next made him actually choke._

_“Are you doing to do some crazy love confession to me?”_

_Brad waited until he stopped coughing up Molson to answer. “Ugh. Fuck, that hurt… do you want me to do something crazy? Because I can just do it now if you want.”_

_Patrice stared at him for way too long. “Are you serious?”_

_Brad grinned. “Am I ever?”_

_“Come on, Marchy…”_

_“Yeah, man, of course I’m fucking serious. So do you want me to just do it now or something big and stupid that everyone will make fun of us for?”_

_“N-no, now is fine, I guess.”_

_“Okay then.” Brad chugged the rest of his beer, then knelt on the floor in front of Patrice with his arms folded across his friend’s legs and gazing sappily up into his face. “Pat, I love you so much. I know you think you’re not perfect, but-” He interrupted himself with a hiccup. “-but you really actually are. You’re beautiful and you’re perfect and even your name is pretty. You make me a better hockey player-” Another hiccup. “-better hockey player, and also just a better man. It’s prob’ly not love at first sight or whatever, but it kind of already happened way before we won the cup in 2011, so like, it’s not just something stupid hero-worshipping thing or whatever. I know you can do better than me, but if you decide to be with me, I’ll be really happy. And like, I’ll do my best to make you happy, too.”_

_Patrice looked like he might die of shock. “Oh my god, Brad…” he finally whispered. Then he pulled Brad up by his shoulders and kissed him._

_They were both still drunk, though, so it was difficult to get right and their noses kept bumping. Patrice tasted like beer and smelled like cologne, and Brad was so busy paying attention to those things that he lost his balance and fell onto his ass. They both started laughing again, especially when Patrice tried to pull him back to his feet but ended up falling onto his chest instead. After that they just stayed on the floor and were kissing again, and life was perfect._

* * *

“You skipped the part where we kept drinking and both threw up in my shower,” Patrice pointed out when Brad had finished.

Everyone else snickered and Brad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s because I didn’t think it was important.”

“Was it a botched attempt at hot shower sex?” Torey asked shamelessly.

“No, the shower was closer than the toilet,” Patrice answered matter-of-factly, which got them all laughing.

“So, wait, if you were drunk, how did you know he meant it?” Charlie wondered, looking embarrassed to even be asking.

“Because we woke up on the kitchen floor the next morning and even though he had a hangover he still kissed me and made me breakfast.” Patrice wore a fond smile on his face as he said it. “And then he also helped me clean out the shower.”


End file.
